


Church Oppa

by pinkchubbiebunnie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Church boy joshua, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Joshua is not a virgin in this fyi, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkchubbiebunnie/pseuds/pinkchubbiebunnie
Summary: Sundays were always impossibly boring. Too slow to do anything exciting - even God was had always hit snooze on this ultimately boring day. But on this particular Sunday, instead of resting, God decided to send you a little gift. Joshua Hong x fem!reader. Smut.
Relationships: Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Reader
Kudos: 37





	Church Oppa

**Author's Note:**

> this is a really old fic from my old tumblr, and I did edit it a bit before posting, but for the most part it has stayed the same. if it's your first time reading, I hope you enjoy, if you are rediscovering this fic, I hope you still love it. -Tanisha<3

Empty house: boring. TV: boring. Tumblr: boring. Homework: boring. Sunday afternoon: boring, boring, boring. There was not a single good thing about Sundays and you had no clue who had invented them or thought they were a good idea. But you supposed whatever day ultimately took their place would suck just as much.

You were wandering around your house in your pajamas (an oversized Harry Potter tee shirt, a pair of mismatched socks, one with hamburgers and the other with puppies, and your pink cotton panties) with your headphones in, staring at each room like someone stared at an open refrigerator, wishing for something more appetizing to suddenly appear. You were hopelessly bored and just praying for something to save you.

Little did you know your prayers would be answered. 

You heard the obnoxious honk of a large truck in between songs, and you went to the nearest window to check it out as Patrick Stump whaled in your ears. You watched as a white moving truck pulled into the house across the street from yours, one that had been vacant for a while now. The previous owners had been an annoying couple with three teenage sons that always played basketball in the street (if you had a dollar for every time they hit you in the head, you probably could have paid for a helmet). Not to mention their garage band that practiced at ungodly hours. Needless to say, you were happy to see them go. You wondered to yourself if the new neighbours had any hot sons, or daughters. Or puppies. You were so bored at this point, you would have easily settled for a puppy.

You wandered over to your front door, not bothering with pants, thinking that your shirt was long enough to cover you and partially just being too lazy to go and find any. You decided to watch the neighbours unpack, hoping you would be inconspicuous, and wouldn't seem like a creep for doing so. Either way you weren't too concerned and more curious than anything.

They looked like a nice, normal family. It was very easy to tell them apart from the movers because they were wearing clean, put-together, almost formal clothing. That didn't really seem like something most people would do when moving, but you let it go. They could have been PTA people from the suburbs. In fact, the more you looked at them - the pearly white smiles, neat haircuts, the pleats in their pants - the more they screamed Pleasantville Robots to you. Probably the type to say 'golly' and go to Church every single Sunday. The thought made you chuckle. Those type of people always puzzled you and annoyed you at the same time.

The son caught your eye. He couldn't have been any older than you, and if he was, he was so  _ baby _ -faced. He had brown hair that fell in nicely over his forehead, but the more he worked, the more boxes he carried into the house in the midday sunlight, the more sweat gathered on his brow and made his hair curl against his skin. At one point he stopped halfway up the driveway and put down the kitchen chair he was carrying to wipe his sweaty brow and roll up the sleeves of the button down shirt he was wearing.

You cocked your head to the side, observing his ass at a different angle as he bent over and picked the chair up again. 

" _ Not bad _ ." You mumbled to yourself as you watched him walk away. 

Stalking wasn't a hobby you would have wanted to get into, but you were bored as hell and he was right there, so you let the thought roll out of your mind. This was your porch and you’d probably find something more interesting to do next weekend. You weren’t hurting anybody. 

Besides, he was certainly much hotter than any of the goonish neighbour boys that used to live there. The only possible problem you could imagine, when you saw the mother carrying a very graphic painting of Jesus' crucifixion, was that he would be too religious for you. You'd lost your virginity shortly after your sixteenth birthday and hadn't let your sex life go astray since then. In fact, at the moment you were fucking one of your school's star basketball players. But he was always very lazy in bed (claiming he was tired from practice) and talking about how much he loved you. Maybe a church choir boy would be a nice change of pace - someone you could ruin. That had always been a fantasy for you. You reminded yourself to check for a purity ring when you met the neighbour boy. Because you sure as hell would find a reason to go over and introduce yourself.

The father took a black guitar case from their minivan (they had a minivan and they only had one kid -  _ dear god _ , they probably car pooled) and brought it over to his son when he walked back out of the house.

" _ So, he plays guitar, huh? _ " You continued mumbling to yourself, thinking out loud, watching as he spoke with his dad and then they motioned to your house, and you realized that the dad pointed at you. " _ Crap _ ." 

You had been spotted. 

You pulled your phone out of your bra and quickly unlocked it, pretending to be paying attention to your Instagram feed. But out of the corner of your eye you saw the son nodding and then checking several times before he crossed the street to end up on your lawn. You were leaning on the porch railing, focusing on his every move in your peripheral. He moved with a great amount of spring in his step as he walked across the lawn and up the porch steps and to you.

"Hello," he greeted politely.

You pretended to be surprised, locking your phone and looking over at him with a smile. He looked kind of like an angel with the sunlight reflecting off his crisp white shirt and sweat glistening skin. He looked damn good.

"Oh, hi." You replied, straightening yourself and facing him. You remembered your lack of pants and hoped he wouldn't notice. Or hoped he would, you weren't sure.

"Um, hi," he repeated his greeting, folding his hands behind his back and shuffling awkwardly on his feet. Shy, awkward, unsure of himself -  _ definitely _ a sheltered church kid. You didn't have a huge problem with religion but there was a certain amount of shame and guilt that came with Christianity that affected people in ways you'd never understand. "My name is Joshua. Me and my family just moved in next door. Well, um, across the street."

Joshua. That's a name you could imagine yourself moaning during sex.

"Yeah, I noticed." You said, motioning to the truck.

He smiled, a beautiful white God-given smile, his face directed more toward the ground. "Yeah. My dad suggested I come and say hello. You know, meet the new neighbours - be polite."

He wanted to make neighbourly small talk and didn't know where else to take it. Now was the perfect time for flirting.

"I'm glad you did. You're a lot better looking than the guys who used to live there." Your tone was light and flirty, one of your hands cocked on your hip.

He chuckled, seeming like he was stalled for something to say, but he didn't seem too embarrassed or shy. That was a good sign.

He cleared his throat before he spoke again. "So, uh, do you go to school around here? I registered last week and I'm supposed to start tomorrow."

More small talk. Perhaps he was just ignoring the flirting or perhaps he just didn’t know how to respond. At least you knew now that he was your age.

"Well I mean, school's just boring isn't it? I wanna know more about you," You persisted, deciding to take one more shot at it before you gave up on being the creepy girl next door in favour of just being the cool neighbour friend. 

He took one of his hands from behind his back and brushed his fingers over his chin, fidgeting. You noticed a silver pinky ring on his hand and internally frowned. You knew any kind of ring wore on the pinky, at least for boys, were usually of the purity kind. You hoped it was just a coincidence.

"You're flirting with me?" His question snapped you from your thoughts. So he wasn't clueless. "I don't even know your name yet."

You took notice of his use of the word 'yet'. Church boy was flirting back.

"My name is Y/N. And if I was flirting with you, what are you gonna do about it?" You folded your arms over your chest, cocking your head at him.

He smirked. It wasn't the smirk of a shy little altar boy. You liked that. He put both hands in his pockets, which spread his shoulders wide and confident and made his hips look broad and stiff, giving his frame a nice masculine posture. 

"Well there's a lot of things I could do about that," he shrugged his shoulders and took the few remaining steps toward you until your bodies were almost touching through the porch railing, and even though he was shorted than you standing on the grass, you felt intimidated by the confidence now pouring off him in waves. You resisted the urge to back away, so eager to see what would happen next, not wanting to back down from the interaction. He leaned in close to your ear before he spoke his next words. His hot breath felt like magma across your skin. "But more than anything I should bend you over my knee for talking to me like that, being so shameless. A little girl like you running around in her panties probably needs to be taught a lesson."

Your breath caught in your throat. Out of all things, you hadn't expected that. But you liked it. Oh, you  _ loved _ it. Loved it so much it made you speechless.

Then you heard a murmur off in the distance, at least it sounded like a murmur with all the fluid that had rushed into your ears. Among fluid that had rushed to other places, causing a hard throbbing between your thighs.

Joshua's attention was captured by the murmur and then he started to walk away. He made it to the middle of the lawn before he looked back at you, still frozen in place.

"Nice socks, by the way. Really cute. But if you're not gonna wear pants, especially outside, I would try to match them with your panties, Princess."

You were surprised you didn't collapse on the porch. Your eyes locked on him as he walked away, all the way back to his waiting mother, and then you stumbled into the house on unsteady legs and shut the door behind you, leaning against it and sinking down tight to the floor.

" _ Check mate _ , Joshua." You finally muttered, breathless. "But I will get you back for this, Oppa."

...

Your mother was the hospitality type. Always the one to organize the Christmas party or have the obscure relative sleep on your couch. So naturally she just had to invite the new neighbours over for Sunday supper.

"They just spent the whole day moving. They must be tired. They deserve a good meal, and some company." She had been pestering you to clean up the dining room, set the table, pick out an outfit.

You didn't mind, though. Joshua (and his parents) were coming over and you had an excuse to dress nice so you could get him back for what he'd done to you that afternoon.

Next thing you knew you were zipping up a skirt that hugged your hips in the best way and flared out just enough to give him a peak if you bent over. You had a sleeveless blouse tucked into it and paired with a nice little pair of lace ankle socks. You thought he would appreciate a cute pair of socks, seeing as he’d gone out of the way to mention them before. You were also wearing nice earrings and just the right amount of makeup with your hair washed and blow-dried with a little bow in it. You were going for the 'good girl' look; partly to see if it would turn Joshua on and partly to make his parents like you. If they were the PTA Jesus people you took them for, then they would want to be able to trust you with their son - even if they didn't think you two were dating.

Then the doorbell rang and you almost slipped on the carpeted stairs with your pretty socks racing for the door. You shouted to your mother, assuring her that she could keep cooking and that you would answer it.

Joshua's father was standing at the other side of the door, wearing a stock-photo smile, carrying a bottle of wine. You stepped aside and let him in, and Joshua's mother trailed in shortly after, carrying a pie. Of course a woman like her would have time to bake a pie after moving house. Joshua was the last in, and didn't hesitate in letting his hand brush across your waist as he walked by you.

On the outside, you tried not to let the effect of his simple touch show. On the inside your blood was boiling, you were putty in his hands. You weren't going to be able to sit through an entire dinner of polite conversation with these people before you got him alone and you knew it.

You took in what he was wearing - a blue button up dress shirt, a pair of grey dress pants, and a sturdy black belt - and turned to look at the floor instead of him. You had to save the dirty thoughts of ripping buttons and what else that belt could do for later.

Your mother appeared in the hallway out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She greeted the new neighbours politely and accepted the pie and wine.

Joshua tucked himself in tight by your side as your group of parents conversed.

"I've been thinking about you all day." He whispered to you.

"I tend to have that effect on people." You countered.

"Don't get cocky with me, Princess. Just a few hours ago you were trembling at the thought of-"

You didn't let him finish. Partly because you were afraid someone would hear him and partly because you didn't want to put a crack in your confident facade with more of his words. But you had an idea about him. One you wanted to disprove.

"Oh, shut up. You're probably just a virgin who likes to tease girls for sport. I saw that purity ring on your finger, Church Boy. All talk and no action." You accused, making him frown.

The adults made their way into the dining room before he had a chance to reply and you caught your mother.

"Mom!" You called out, stopping her. "How long until dinner? Because I thought maybe I could take Joshua to my room and show him some of my school yearbooks - give him a chance to see what the school's gonna be like."

Your mother was completely clueless to your idea of extracurricular activities. So, unlike most parents she didn't have any rules against you having boys in your room. You were her brilliant little girl and could do no wrong.

"That sounds wonderful!" Joshua's mother answered, rather overenthusiastically. You were surprised she didn't have any qualms about being him alone with a girl in a bedroom. Maybe she felt the same way about trusting her son way too much. "And that'll give us some time to discuss that carpool I wanted to set up,"

You had a hard time not snorting at the word 'carpool', but distracted yourself by taking Joshua's hand and leading him away upstairs. Your bedroom was at the corner of the house, secluded, but still a risk because you knew you could be loud. Either way this was more an interrogation of Joshua than a sure case of you getting laid.

You ushered him in and closed the door behind the two of you.

"Your mom lets you have guys in your room with the door closed?" He questioned, shoving his hands in his pockets again as he stood in the doorway, casting his eyes around the room, clearing inspecting the way you kept it so that he could judge you. 

You had cleaned up a bit, partially because of your boredom earlier that day, and partially anticipating his arrival, but you were not a particularly messy person. So the most he could judge you on would be the pictures you had displayed of you and your friends, the one stuffed animal you had dared to leave on your bed (because Hello Kitty gets snubbed for no man) and the few pictures around your room that you had drawn yourself and been proud enough to put up. Perhaps he was looking for a picture of you and a boyfriend, checking to make sure that he wasn’t committing the ultimate sin: adultery. 

"Yeah. She  _ trusts _ me. I haven't given her a reason not to." You explained, circling around him to go and sit on the edge of your bed. It was the perfect angle to observe him where he stood. He didn't seem comfortable enough to sit down yet and you were primed to take advantage of that.

"So you are the good little girl you make yourself out to be," He commented, smirking again.

You reflected that stupid smirk right back. "I said I haven't given her a reason. She doesn't know what goes on up here. As far as she's concerned, right now I'm tutoring one of school's dumbest jocks and he's getting better grades than ever."

"In what, sex ed?" He shot back within seconds. You didn't take it personally. You liked to think you made him nervous and that was just his defense mechanism.

"You got me." You shrugged as Joshua turned his attention from you to the dresser behind him, beginning to browse through the trinkets you had placed on top. It might have been to distract from the conversation or to try to learn more about you. You let it happen. "I'm a huge slut. But I pretend to be a good girl to satisfy Mommy and Step-Daddy. At least I'm not a tease who's scared of my own shadow."

"A tease? Really? I'm a little offended." He said playfully, his fingers flicking over your book collection.

"Then what else would you call someone with a purity ring?" You questioned, leaning back on your elbows, your legs crossed.

He turned around to face you, thinking for a moment. You noted that he unbuttoned both cuffs of his shirt and started rolling them up. He noted the way your eyes locked on his movements.

"I guess it does look a little prude-ish, doesn't it?" He raised his ring-dawned pinky, showing you. You were curious as to where he was going with this. "A young man promising his virginity to God."

"So you are a virgin?" You weren't sure whether to be excited or disappointed. Corrupting someone had always been a fantasy for you; but whether he was corruptible was the question.

You were entirely confused when he started chuckling. "Technically I didn't break the rule; because Jules Bennett from Church Camp was practically a God."

You snorted with laughter yourself. This boy didn't fail to surprise you.

"So you're not a virgin? You wear that just to throw people off?" You let the words fall from your mouth, trying to gauge more of him, getting a better feel for his personality. And in the back of your mind you were trying to remember if you still had condoms in your nightstand drawer.

"I wear it because it makes my parents happy." He explained.

You nodded in understanding. "I get that."

"You should have heard all the complaining they did when the moving company told them they had to reschedule for a Sunday. Because Sunday is a day of rest and doing work on God's day is a sin.” You could hear in his voice that he was holding back a laugh, but it was the cruel kind of laugh that only came from mocking one’s own pain. “They made me pray with them around the stupid truck three times before it left this morning." He ranted, his attention no longer focused on you. "I'm just glad this is the one Sunday I don't have to spend two hours singing hymns about repentance and a dead white Jew. Do you know how many girls my parents have driven me insane with talk about 'purity' and 'waiting until marriage'?"

You raised yourself from the bed and placed your hands firmly on both his shoulders, stopping his words. You could feel his breath full in his chest, the swell of anxiety and all the words he had been waiting to scream at someone who would understand, things that had been trapped in there for years. You rubbed your hands up his biceps and across his collarbones, feeling how tense he was.

He was not an innocent boy waiting to be corrupted by you. Nor was he a tease. 

He was caged. 

He was someone free in mind and body, made perfect by the hand of God, who had been sent to this earth only to be shackled by those who supposedly followed God’s word and did everything to please God. But you knew in that moment, as you looked Joshua up and down, that God would never make such a beautiful creature - would never make someone look like a literal angel - and intend for him to only be fucked by one woman for all his days. To intend for him to only be fucked by women. 

(You could have that conversation with Joshua another time.) 

“Do you really think God made you this perfect so that you could only have sex when you get married?” You chuckled lightly, partially joking, partially flirting, your hot breath fanning out across his face. 

You looked deep into his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of any reaction to your words. 

His hands were still deep-seated in his pockets, but you could tell he was clenching fists. Your body was inches away from his, the exchange of heat evident in the small amount of air space between you.

"Are you saying God wants me to fuck you?" His tone was joking, but plagued with a slight tightness that said he almost couldn’t stand to joke about his God. Maybe you had taken it too far. Maybe you were opening his eyes to something beautiful. You saw the lust building inside him and wanted to draw more of it out. You sensed that he could be a monster and wanted to see that come to light.

“I’m saying sex can be just as beautiful as prayer. It’s one of the most natural things people can do and it’s unnatural to be so ashamed of it,” You laid this out simply on the table before you backed away from him, turning and pretending to tidy some of the nicknacks on your nightstand. “I guess you could go back downstairs instead and listen to them talk about the carpool and low fat cookie recipes,” 

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "So this is your idea of prayer?"

You turned back to the bed, leaning over with one knee on the bed and one foot on the floor, pretending to straighten your pillows. You knew it gave him the perfect view of your ass, maybe even a peak of your underwear if you stretched the right way.

"Were you even listening to anything I said?" You glance over your shoulder at him, and this heat in your eyes paired with the roundness of your ass and the snark of your tone seemed to make him finally snap.

You almost gasped when you felt his firm hands on your hips, holding you, spreading undeniable heat even through the fabric of your skirt. Electricity was pulsing through you, sparking up that dangerous thing you had been trying so hard to keep dormant all day. In terms of body mass and height, he wasn't that much larger than you, but at the moment he might as well have been a skyscraper towering over you. And it was fucking hot, feeling him behind you, his hard cock rubbing against your thighs from behind - all too hot, all too much, all at once.

Then he flipped you over and you were full on your back on the bed looking up at him with his hands still poised on your hips, greedily digging into the flesh. His face was stern, his eyes full of lust; telling you how much he wanted you. You could see his thick cock bulging out of his pants, having been awakened so quickly by your words, by the sight of you. Your pussy was thumping hard with the blood that was pulsing through your body, aching to be touched by him, by anything. You clenched your thighs together as Joshua stared you down.

"Of course I was listening, Y/N." He ran his hands up your sides, forcing your clenching thighs apart with one of his knees. His cock rubbed against your hip and you gasped, just feeling the sheer size of it. He chuckled. He knelt on the bed and leaned forward, looming over you. You watched him turn darker, along with the whole aura around him, going from sweet, civilized boy to something far more sexy. "So you wanna pray with me?"

He put emphasis on this dirty metaphor by grinding his thigh into your aching pussy, causing a surprised moan to rip from the back of your throat. 

You were stuck, too busy gasping for breath and grinding against his now perfectly still thigh looking for some kind friction to be able to even think about answering him. So you simply waited. 

He leaned down until his lips were just barely brushing yours, eyes still locked tightly on you.

"What, Princess, no words?" he whispered, his breath still hot against your lips when he kissed you. It was a sloppy display of lip on lip, not as rough as you would have expected, but full of heat and spit. Hit teeth clinked yours when you opened your mouth, and then latched onto your lip and bit, pulling it out and letting the skin snap back.

Your breathing was beginning to labour when he started staring you down again. "Can you be quiet for me?" He breathed at you, clearly affected by the kiss as well.

"No promises." You told him cheekily, biting your lip.

He scowled, and didn't hesitate in bringing a hand to wrap it around your throat. Once again, he didn't fail to surprise you. Just having his flat palm hot against your skin was enough to make your pussy clench around nothing, but when he squeezed his fingers on either side you felt your head go fuzzy in the best way.

"Can you be quiet for me?" He repeated, more of a growl in his voice.

"Yes, Oppa." You replied, your words muffled by his hold on you.

He let the hand slide from your throat and down your front, undoing a few of your buttons as he went.

"As much as I'd love to hear that dirty mouth at work, our parents don't need to come in here and see you spread out for me and know what a slut you are." He explained as if it were nothing, laying open-mouthed kisses in your cleavage as he went.

A surge of electricity ran through you at his words. Before you really knew what was happening, he was on his knees before you, his hot hands under your skirt, grabbing your underwear and ripping them from your body. He flipped your skirt up, you weren't surprised that he didn't bother to take it off, letting the frigid air of the room get at you.

He bit his lip when he saw you. Clean shaven, soaked, and swollen red, with what looked like a hickey on the inside of your knee.

"What's this?" He murmured against your skin as he nipped at the hickey, remarking it as his own.

"Pinched my knee in a dishwasher door. I wouldn't even pay the point guard I'm fucking to go down on me, trust me." You told him breathlessly. It was the truth. He was the worst at oral and you were looking forward to whatever change Joshua could give you.

His fingers ran across your throbbing pussy lips, making you flinch. His lips moved higher on your thigh, continuing to bite and suck.

"Is that what you're gonna call me? 'Dishwasher door'?" He toyed, his middle finger just grazing over your clit. You had to bite your lip to stay quiet.

"I might call you 'floor hockey practice'." You sounded fucked out, which was rare for you so quickly, and you like it. You liked Joshua. You liked the shockwaves of pleasure he was sending through you just with the careful flicks of his fingers. "Or 'vacuum cleaner', by the looks of it."

"You talk too much." He pressed his thumb hard onto your clit, rough and relentless, making you throw your head back against the bed and gasp out. You bit your tongue, remembering what he'd said about being quiet.

You couldn't control the moan that left you when he spread you apart with two fingers and suckled onto your clit. His lips sucked you into his mouth, almost like he was trying to swallow you whole - which you really wouldn't have minded - and your moan stretched into the air. Your hips seized at the action, and he made a decision.

He hoisted both your legs over his shoulder, roughing you up, letting his fingers dig into your skin. There was a satisfying painful fingerprint he left on you and a burn through your middle as he leaned farther up, bending you to force your pussy into his mouth. His tongue was raw against you, the muscle delving into your folds as you hooked your ankles behind his head, trapping him. As if he'd want to go anywhere.

"Joshua." His name was a rough rasp out of your mouth and he slapped the outside of your thigh at your outburst.

The sting made more wetness flow through you and the look of pure fire in his eyes was something you would never forget.

"Shut it, Princess." He scolded, his own voice weighed down with lust. "Don't make me remind you again."

He delivered a nip to your clit, possibly as a punishment, as you shoved two knuckles full in your mouth, tempted to put your face in a pillow. You knew he had a point about your noise and that he wasn't just playing a game.

You tried to keep that thought in the back of your mind, but it was just so hard when he put his mouth full on you, shamelessly sucking and laving his tongue over you like a starving man. You were keening against your knuckles like a pathetic dying whale and felt the heat growing in you that was only certain of your oncoming orgasm. He was too good. He was going to hold this against you.

He wiggled his tongue inside you, hot and heavy and whole, bumping his nose against your clit. It was one short thrust of the muscle and the scrape of his nails against the skin of your hips before you were gone. Embarrassingly enough, in a last minute effort not to be heard by the whole neighbourhood you grabbed one of the pillows above your head and threw it over your face, biting into the fabric as you shook and cried under Joshua's touch.

He brought a hand around and fingered you through your orgasm, watching the gulping of your brightly flushed neck as it peeked out from under the pillow, and the heaving of your breasts through the unbuttoned part in your shirt, past the lacy edge of your bra. Even with the way your skirt was flipped up, he wasn’t sure you’d be able to cover up the hickies and nail marks scattering your skin. You were a picture of wrecked perfection he could get used to.

But then he heard the creak of someone coming up the stairs.

He slapped your thigh again.

"Get up, Princess." He instructed, rising from his knees and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Strictly not on his sleeve, he reminded himself. You didn't move, just collapsed back on the bed with the pillow still on your face. "Come on. We have appearances to keep up."

He found your panties on the floor and resisted the urge to put them in his pocket, but simply kicked them under the nearest piece of furniture because someone was bound to come in. He then turned back to you and flipped the pillow off you, grabbing both your wrists and hauling you into a sitting position.

"Did I finally break you, my little slut?" He taunted, taking the bow out of your hair.

"Don't make fun of me." You whined - taking on a babyish tone due to your post orgasmic haze making you more emotionally needy than usual. "It's not my fault you practically sucked the soul out of me."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. You watched with curious eyes as he walked over to your dresser and picked up a hair brush. When he came back and stood before you, your eyes were in perfect line with the bulge in his pants.

"Don't even think about it. You'll have plenty of time to suck me off later." His voice was back to the certain sweetness that jarred with the difference from before.

You did up your shirt buttons with shaking fingers and he combed through your hair with the brush.

He was just putting the bow back in your hair when there was a hallow knock on your door. It still startled you, even when you'd had plenty of days like this before.

"Come in." You called out, cringing at the scratch in your throat.

Your step dad appeared in the doorway, probably fresh home from work. Joshua had drifted over to your desk, appeared to be preoccupied with the collection of photos you had there.

"Oh, you must be Joshua." Your step dad said, greeting the boy.

They shook hands and then the man turned to you.

"Your mom wants you to wash up for dinner." He instructed.

You nodded. "Yeah, we'll be down in a minute." 

He nodded as well before he was gone, leaving the door open behind him.

Joshua hoisted you off the bed, pulling you deadly close to him with his lips flush against your ear. "I'm sure your mom is a good cook, but nothing is going to taste as satisfying as what I just had."

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes at the sheer crudeness of what he’d just said, even though his words sent a tingle up your spine. Maybe you were going to like Sundays just fine after all. 


End file.
